In Remembrance
by Super Kick
Summary: An incident results in Ichigo having little recollection of his life. Along with the help of the brash and lazy Dr. Jeagerjaques, will he be able to remember? Does he want to? AU, GrimmIchi, Yaoi.


_A.N./Finally getting a grimmichi fanfiction out, hope you enjoy. POV's and tenses will change throughout._  
_Disclaimer: Bleach ain't mine. Either are any lyrics I use._  
_Warnings: I'll only post warnings here, don't see the point of doing it every chapter unless strictly necessary; strong language, intimate homosexual relationships, possible violence (or flashbacks thereof)._

_When the end is getting closer_  
_And the earth has burned the sky_  
_Now repent 'cause it's all over_  
_Just let me die_  
_S.C.A.V.A - Hollywood Undead_

I'm not sure if I'm dead or not. I know that sounds dumb, but just hold on a minute, yeah? I'm standing on a building alike to a skyscraper, but along its windows, not atop it. A regular sense of gravity, it seems, is not apparent in this world I've found myself in. As far as I can see are buildings reaching into a light hue of blue, continuing forever. It doesn't make sense; but neither do I.  
I'm not at all too sure who I am. I know I've lived, and laughed, and suffered, but I just can't remember any of it. I've been left in this empty shell of a body in world that shouldn't exist. What confuses me the most is that I can remember all these words filling my head. I can recite Shakespeare poems and perfectly remember complicated computer coding without any trouble. It's just _there_. What isn't there are my memories; and this is what confuses me. Do I not want to know? Is it even possible?  
I've been here for a while. Time doesn't really make sense here either though. I know I've been in this world for a long period of time, but there isn't any indication of it anywhere. No sun sets, and my hair doesn't grow. There's not much else to go by when calculating time in a world of nothingness, so it's only my guess.  
I'm really curious to know what I look like. My reflection in these glass windows is distorted and altered. When I look all I see is a figure of a young man with pure white skin and hair, with a terrifyingly black and gold set of eyes which bore holes straight into my skin. It always wears a feral grin too big for its angular face. It is not me. My skin is tanned and I know I'm not smiling. Sometimes I wish it would leave because it unnerves me like someone walking too close behind you on a dark night, or a dodgy barman who most likely slipped something a little too illegal into your drink. Other times, I'm thankful for its presence. If it weren't there I'd be completely alone and I know that would drive me to insanity.  
Well, not totally alone. Sometimes I hear voices. Creepy, right? Maybe I'm already insane.  
They sound like they're underwater. It irritates me; angers me. Sometimes I lose it and shout at the voices. Why don't they talk louder, more clearly? It's not fair.  
So now do you understand why I'm confused to whether I'm alive or not? And if I am, is this any kind of life to live? In a reverse world, with nothing keeping you company aside a creepy reflection and illegible voices?  
Maybe I was a terrible person, maybe I deserve this.  
I just want to live.

* * *

"Ah, Jeagerjaques, just the man I was needing!"

Said man groaned and lowered his head to his paperwork infested desk. "What now Yoruichi? Can't handle your own work again?" he growled into the forms he had given up on.

"Aw, don't be so grouchy! Now," she husked as she exposed a little too much of her ample cleavage onto the man's desk, "There's a patient, currently in a comatose state, that I need you to attend to. He's been here a little over a month and he's beginning to show improvement, I'd like to assign you to treating him right now and when he finally wakes."

A head of tousled blue hair raised, along with a thin azure eyebrow. "Number one; are you trying to make a medical situation sound sexy by lowering your voice, and two; you know I dig dick so you're wasting your time throwing your tits around my paperwork."

Yoruichi huffed, threw down a file, crossed her arms below her chest then strutted out of the office she had bombarded. "Just get it done Blue. And no arguing with the patient!"

"I thought he was in a coma?" he called after her in confusion.

He heard her laughter from down the corridor. "Like that would stop you!"

He cursed inwardly at the older woman. She had a bad habit of landing him with all the work she didn't want or couldn't be bothered with. Not that she would even get in trouble for it; it was obvious she was fucking around with the head doctor.

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques had worked at Karakura General Hospital for two years. He had left university early with the simplest medical degree he could that would still allow him to become a doctor at his local hospital. Some would call his way of doing things lazy; they would be correct. If Yoruichi was the queen of procrastination, he was most certainly the prince.

He also had a tendency of handing down jobs, but he spread them out between different doctors and nurses so that his avoidance wasn't so obvious. The job she had just thrown out at him he would take though; he desperately needed to get away from the confetti littering his desk and drawers. Rising from his well-used office chair, he sauntered off to the nearest coffee machine. No way was he going to start a new job without a cup of caffeine.

On his way there he grunted greetings to those he passed, not seeing anyone he was entirely close with to which he was thankful. Everyone he knew was… weird, to put it simply. Although, maybe batshit insane would be a more fitting description. Either that or they had a ridiculous shade of hair that shouldn't even exist. But then again, he could hardly say much with his head of hair brighter than the sky.

Whilst he stood waiting for his cup of coffee to pour itself he was intercepted by a pink haired surgeon. This one combined crazy-ass hair and batshit-insane personality into one being. Szayel was one to watch out for.

"Ah, Grimmjow, splendid morning we're having, ne?"

Grimmjow turned to give the smaller man a withering look which begged to differ. "Yeah, but you haven't had big-tits land all her work on ya."

The pink-haired man just sighed then tutted in response. "Now, now Grimmjow, that's no way to talk about a superior! And you'd better sort out that vicious tongue of yours; your language is repulsive."

"Fuck off Pinky," Grimmjow snarled. He was in no mood to be taunted by the surgeon who talked like a noble like it was his favourite hobby. He was _almost_as bad as Yumichika. Almost. Szayel just threw his slender arms up in surrender and left the doctor's side to carry on with whatever work awaited him in his department.

Once Grimmjow's coffee was all sorted; two sugars, no milk, he glanced down at the file he had taken along with him.

_Ichigo Kurosaki_  
_D.O.B 15/07/91_  
_Ward 6 - Room 2_

And then he got bored of reading. Ward 6 was thankfully only one floor away and he was right next to the stairs that led up there. On his way up, he decided to take another look at the file he was given about the patient he had so graciously been assigned to. He grimaced over his personal details. Shit, the kid was only 21, and to suffer from head injuries so severe that they left him in a coma for over a month? Poor guy. Not many people stalked the halls of Ward 6. It wasn't an emergency ward, just one that hosted several beds for nothing too specific. Grimmjow ducked into Room 2 -at 6ft 3 there was no easy way for him to walk through most regular door frames- and had to suck in a breath at what he saw.

Not at the injuries, any that had been there previously had been professionally covered and cared for. No, it was because of the young man occupying the hospital bed. He had a long, lean body from what Grimmjow could see; lightly toned yet pale, but that was most probably because of the state he was in. Strong arms lay either side of his body as he lay perfectly straight on his back on the hard mattress. What caught Grimmjow's eyes the most however, was the head or bright orange, unruly hair. It sat defiant upon the man's head, spiking up in areas, draping over his forehead and shoulders in others. Within the disarray of orange locks was a calm face; free of any expression of distress or discomfort. He was beautiful.

Grimmjow ran a hand over his face in frustration; he hated getting attractive patients. Mainly because they were all male and if any were to find out his attraction towards them, they'd probably file a complaint. Not many people were comfortable getting treated by homosexuals. How it was any different from being treated by a heterosexual, Grimmjow would never be able to comprehend. What he did know though, was that it royally pissed him off. So what if he found them hot, it was a compliment! And he was a professional, it wasn't like he was going to sexually harass them during a physical examination. Not unless they initiated it anyway. And this guy wasn't going to be throwing himself at him anytime soon with the state he was in.

Grimmjow set to work, checking over the patient's blood pressure, heart rate, and the rest of the regular check-up procedures. Nothing seemed wrong, much to the blue-haired doctor's delight, and he thanked whatever gods there were that Yoruichi hadn't gave him a complicated job.

Just as he began to leave, the patient stirred slightly. Grimmjow didn't miss the movement and stayed to watch the man's eyebrows knot together in what looked like a confused scowl. Eyelashes fluttered, cheeks squirmed, his nose scrunched up. Then he opened his mouth to let loose a cough which had probably been held in for weeks. And then another. Then another.

Grimmjow rushed over to help the young man sit up and rubbed his back reassuringly as he was brought back into consciousness after a month of rest.

"Don't worry kid, can you hear me? Try to steady your breathing, come on Ichigo."

* * *

My throat is burning. Fuck, it's sore. Like I haven't drank in months, years. I can feel my whole body convulsing as I cough and splutter out everything that's collected in my stomach and oesophagus. I feel a hand at my back holding me upright, rubbing as if to soothe the pain aching in my throat. It's not helping. They're not helping.

"Don't worry kid, can you hear me?" My breathing accelerates. I understand every word.

"Try to steady your breathing, come on Ichigo." _Ichigo_.

My head suddenly becomes filled. With images, with memories, with words. So fast, that it is incomprehensible. Only some I can make out. That I am Ichigo.  
And that I didn't want to wake up.

_A.N./ Short first chapter because I'm lazy. I do have a plot figured out so I'll be able to continue it._  
_Apologies for any incorrect medical information, not that I'll go into great detail._


End file.
